


Courtesan

by lesbianophelia



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: “I think,” Sokka says, when it’s late and his face is pressed against Zuko’s bare chest so hard that his cheek squishes up and muffles his voice just a little. “Everyone thinks I’m your courtesan.”
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 74
Kudos: 2090
Collections: A:tla





	Courtesan

**Author's Note:**

> This is set something like 5 years post canon.

“I think,” Sokka says, when it’s late and his face is pressed against Zuko’s bare chest so hard that his cheek squishes up and muffles his voice just a little. “Everyone thinks I’m your courtesan.”   
  
Zuko snorts out a little laugh, not realizing until Sokka smacks a hand out vaguely in his direction that this isn’t a joke. “No, they don’t,” he says, catching the hand and threading his fingers through it.   
  
“They _do_ ,” Sokka whines, just a little, though his hand tightens around Zuko’s happily. Sometimes -- okay, a lot of the time, if he’s being honest -- Zuko feels at least a little bit jealous of the way Sokka was raised. Unafraid to show affection, used to physical contact. He feels like he’s so far _behind_. Like he’s somehow _still_ learning how to offer and accept these kinds of casual touches outside of the context of sex.   
  
Though -- not _that_ far outside of the context of sex. They are both definitely still very naked, the sweat having cooled on their bodies but not quite dried up.   
  
“No one thinks that,” Zuko promises, using his free hand to stroke over Sokka’s hair. This part feels less like he’ll never get used to it. Reassuring the man in his bed is very easy. He has plenty of true things to say about Sokka. “You’re the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador. And a legendarily skilled warrior, and--”   
  
“And the Fire Lord’s _boytoy_ ,” Sokka continues,using the elbow that hangs off of Zuko’s chest to push himself up against the mattress. “I don’t even know how everyone _knows_ ,” he continues.   
  
“We’re not . . . exactly subtle,” Zuko says carefully, thinking of the sheer amount of guards alone who have seen Sokka’s comings and goings from his chambers. “And if it makes you feel better, I bet people had suspicions even before we---”   
  
“Why would that _make me feel better_?” Sokka squawks, adorable in his outrage. “You’re telling me even before we --- before all of this -- people already thought we were . . .” he searches for the word.   
  
Zuko wants to set himself on fire for the one he offers, so very easily. “Lovers?” It’s a dated word. One that feels both more accurate than _boyfriend_ but also impossibly sentimental and vulnerable to say out loud.   
  
Sokka goes still for a moment, and Zuko can taste his heartbeat the entire time. “ _Lovers_?” he repeats quietly. “You are such,” he pauses, scoots up to kiss the Fire Lord in earnest, enough to soften his next words. “A romantic idiot.”  
  
Zuko laughs, half relief and half at the fact that one of those words has never actually been true about him. At least, not before. “Would you prefer I call you my boytoy?” he laughs, flipping them over so that he can hold himself up on his forearms and knees above Sokka. “My courtesan?” he leans down to suck a kiss against Sokka’s skin, just under the hollow behind his ear. “My paramour,” he tries.   
  
Sokka’s hands tangle into Zuko’s hair. “No,” he says.   
  
“What about concubine?” the other man asks. “Bed warmer?” he asks, and at Sokka’s gasp, he laughs. “You’re the one who wanted me to be less romantic.”   
  
“Never said that,” Sokka grumbles, and at a particularly ardent kiss against the base of his throat, his grip tightens. “And you could -- hh. Probably keep your own bed warm. With the fire shit.”   
  
Zuko laughs, continuing to kiss his way down until he reaches Sokka’s collarbone.   
  
“You’re gonna leave a _mark_ ,” Sokka warns, nothing in his voice indicating a _stop_ or a _don’t_.   
  
“What do I care?” Zuko asks. “I mean, if you’re so sure everybody already knows--”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Sokka says, but the way he squirms tells Zuko that this game has shot a thrill straight through him. “Might as well just have me sit on your lap during meetings and feed you with my fingers and--” he cuts himself off, laughing because Zuko just full on collapses on top of him. “You’re into that?” Sokka teases. “I gotta admit, I always kind of pictured it the other way around.”   
  
“Ssss--” Zuko tries, but it comes out like a hiss, because now Sokka is just playing dirty, especially when he hooks his legs around Zuko’s, giving him no real leverage to stand up or do anything other than grind against the other man. “Sokka,” he manages with some difficulty, not sure what he’s asking for.   
  
“Mmm,” Sokka says. “I think that’s the thing. If they actually _knew_ what you’re like, it would be another thing entirely.”   
  
Zuko is pretty sure he’s going to _die_. It’s the odd combination of mortification and overwhelming relief that Sokka likes to strike sometimes, when he gets in a particular mood. _This_ particular mood, it appears.   
  
“It’s always, _can’t you just ask the Fire Lord_ , this. _Sokka, do you think Fire Lord Zuko would be willing to have an audience about_ that,” his voice goes high and nasally as he mocks the other ambassadors. “Like I get special treatment, or something.”   
  
“Right. I never treat you special,” Zuko grumbles, scraping his teeth over a nipple in the exact way that always makes Sokka’s back arch just a little.   
  
“Baby.” The word is one of a few that always threatens to kill Zuko. Especially paired as it is now with a gentle hand on his head, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. “You’re right. You treat me so nice.”   
  
Zuko basks just a little bit in the praise, resting his cheek against Sokka’s chest for a moment.   
  
“It’s just, they seem to think maybe I can get some leverage for our trade deals if I ask while I suck your cock.”   
  
Zuko shivers. “Extortion,” he accuses, though it’s weak.   
  
“Nah. Extortion implies I would have to use force,” Sokka says loftily, and maybe just to prove him right, Zuko gets back to work kissing his way down his chest, dragging his lips across his stomach as he does. “See?” Sokka asks, though his voice is a little tighter now. “Didn’t even have to ask.”   
  
“Never,” Zuko agrees, a little breathless.   
  
This is a tightrope walk they do. Sokka never quite wants to be _mean_ and though they haven’t discussed it outright, they both know that Zuko might not really recover from it if he was. But there are other things. Implications, maybe. Gentle teasing, sure, but always with this undercurrent of adoration and respect that Zuko can get swept away in entirely.   
  
“Mm.” Zuko mumbles against Sokka’s stomach. “I’ll banish ‘em,” he offers.   
  
“ _Finally_ ,” Sokka says to the ceiling. “Some benefit to fucking the Fire Lord.”   
  
Zuko bites one of his hips and Sokka laughs.  
  
“ _Kidding_ ,” he says, as if Zuko doesn’t already know. “But really. You could just issue a decree, or something.”   
  
“I’ll get right on that,” he drawls. “How about: the only special treatment the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador gets is when--”   
  
“Nope. Veto.” Sokka’s hips wriggle impatiently as Zuko moves torturously slow, down to where he most wants to feel his mouth. “You’re such a tease.”   
  
“I was trying to go to bed,” Zuko defends. “ _You’re_ the one who decided to get me all riled up.”   
  
Sokka takes a deep breath. “Hey. I got an idea for a decree.”   
  
Zuko rolls his eyes, knowing he won’t even have to ask to hear Sokka’s joke.   
  
“ _Attention Fire Nation_ ,” Sokka pitches his voice down, trying to sound more regal than he is. “ _From now on, I will accept no duties, responsibilities, or meetings on Sundays. It’s definitely not because I’m fucking the ambassador---”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Can’t imagine fucking an ambassador,” Zuko says, so close that the words are exhaled right onto Sokka’s desperate, straining cock. “I mean, have you even _seen_ the Earth Kingdom--”   
  
“Do _not_ bring him up right now, or I swear--” Sokka’s threat is cut off when Zuko finally takes his cock into his mouth. Zuko feels the sheets underneath them shift as Sokka fists at them and he laughs, just a little bit. It’s the vibrations -- or maybe it’s the fact that Sokka _still_ always seems to feel so proud when he makes Zuko laugh, even years after they became friends -- but either way, it seems to drive Sokka absolutely wild. “ _Fuck,_ Zuko.”   
  
Something inside of Zuko thrills at the praise. As it always does, when Sokka is the one dispensing it. He redoubles his efforts, hollows his cheeks, tunes in to every gasp and twitch he gets in response.   
  
“Fuck, _fuck_ , I’m--” Sokka stammers, his hands returning to Zuko’s hair, where the firebender sort of always wants them to be. “You’re so good at that,” he says, gathering the hair up away from his eyes and off the back of his neck. “Fuckin’ incredible,” he grits out. Zuko, frustrated by the low light of the fire across the chambers, reaches up, half paying attention, and sends a little blast of fire over to the lamp beside the bed. As it ignites, he catches sight of Sokka and something in the surprise on his lover’s face manages to stoke his ego just a little bit more.   
  
“Unfair,” Sokka hisses, seeming far from actually upset. “That’s so hot. You’re so hot.”   
  
Zuko pulls off for a moment, gasping just a little. “That’s just the fire,” he says.   
  
Sokka gives a little broken laugh when Zuko’s wrist twists in just the right way. “And he’s funny, too.”   
  
Zuko’s cheeks feel red hot. He moves to take Sokka back in his mouth, but he’s stopped with the hand in his hair. The pull aches so perfectly that a ragged little gasp escapes him, and Sokka shifts one hand down to his chin, forcing his jaw up.   
  
“You _are_ ,” he says, his voice firm. Zuko’s eyes flit around, not quite able to hold on Sokka’s face when he’s being like this. This only seems to encourage Sokka to encourage being a little shit, because he keeps his grip on Zuko’s chin despite just how close he was to coming just a few seconds ago. “Spirits, look at you.” His voice comes out a little hoarse. “You’re so perfect.”   
  
The word burns Zuko all the way down to the pit of his stomach. “Sokka,” he chokes out, not exactly able to handle the praise. .   
  
“I know,” says Sokka, voice low and sympathetic. “But you _are_.”   
  
Zuko breaks Sokka’s hold on him and gets back to work, eager and a little desperate to please -- to prove him _right_. Sokka mumbles and curses and drops the words _perfect_ and _beautiful_ and _yes_ and _fuck_ and as soon as he finishes, he drags Zuko right back up his body by his shoulders, kissing the taste of himself out of the firebender’s mouth. Zuko grins, melts into the kiss, and Sokka laughs but it’s not mean.   
  
“Man,” he says. “If I’d have known all I had to do was tell you about how everyone thinks I’m your--”   
  
“Call boy,” Zuko offers, earning himself a halfhearted smack against his back. “Companion?” he asks.   
  
“Thought we’d settled on Lover,” Sokka grumbles, pushing Zuko onto his back.   
  
“You like that one?” Zuko can’t help the eager note in his voice, something that he keeps hoping will finally go away after years of approval, first as his friend and then as more.   
  
“It’s all right,” Sokka says, attempting to sound unbothered. His smile betrays his, especially as he reaches down to take Zuko in his hand. “Kinda old fashioned, but I can live with it.”   
  
“I -- ngh.” Zuko sucks in a sharp breath. “I can make an official declaration. If you want.”   
  
Sokka snorts out a little laugh. “Is there some official ceremony for that?”   
  
Zuko’s heart is pounding in his chest like a war drum. “If you want,” he promises on an exhale. He would give Sokka whatever he wants -- hand around his cock or none.   
  
“Mm,” Sokka pretends to think about it for a moment, focusing instead on his task. It’s quick, nearly relentless. Sokka is a quick learner. He boiled this down to a science sometime around two years ago, when all of this started, back before he was stationed in the fire nation permanently. 

Back when Zuko was trying, even as he snuck Sokka into his quarters night after night, to keep the dopey mushy feelings at bay. Zuko keeps his eyes trained on him now, relieved that the days of pretending like he wasn’t desperately in love with Sokka are long since over.   
  
“If _I_ want?” Sokka asks. “What about what you want, Your Highness?”   
  
It’s a whine. Maybe a whimper.   
  
It’s not enough for Sokka. “Can’t use your words?” he goads, his grip loosening in a clear threat. Zuko’s hips shoot up, desperate to keep the friction.   
  
“Want to,” he gets out. “ ‘course I want to, Sok-- _gah._ Who wouldn’t?” he’s desperate, just barely short of begging.   
  
‘Yeah?” Sokka asks, kissing the side of his neck, wet and messy.   
  
“Yeah,” Zuko gasps back out. “Show everyone how lucky I am. Please.”   
  
Sokka gets him off hard and fast and waits for the moment Zuko’s breathing begins to return to normal to deliver the final blow.   
  
“Give a guy a betrothal necklace or something first,” he says. “Jeez.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> This my first ATLA fic ever. Thanks for reading!   
> I'm on tumblr -- mendontprotectyou


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